Obsession
by Lady Sam Mallory
Summary: Infatuation comes with heavy consequences when Blair's charm with the ladies get him in a little bit of trouble. Original Publish Date: 12/18/02


As usual, the standard characters belong to Pet Fly and a bunch of other people who would not be me. Quianna (pronounced key-ah-na) Richards belongs to me.

A heart-filled thanks to my phenomenal beta, Zoe, whose friendship and support have helped me to keep on writing material that not only doesn't suck, but is grammatically correct.

Thanks to Wolfpup's Den for giving my work a home.

 **Warning:** About a 4 on the 1-10 smarm scale, but not too mushy. H/C for both our guys.

 **Spoilers:** Teeny tiny one for _Flight_.

* * *

OBSESSION

Lady Sam Mallory

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1_**

Blair removed the ponytail holder from his hair and allowed it to spill down around his shoulders. It was a little after midnight, and his head felt like it was about to explode from grading the essay test he had assailed his students with that morning. Blair tried to remove the tension from his shoulders by rolling them forwards then back, but he knew it was useless. He just had too much to do this week and could not afford to put off grading these, or they'd be lucky to get them back by the end of the term.

"Just one more and then I'll go home," he stated to no one in particular.

The phone rang and he gruffly answered it, "Hello, Jim, I know it's late, but I have to finish this last paper and then I'll be on my way home."

"Blair, it's Quianna. I'm sorry if I caught you at a bad time. You sound very tired," she said sweetly.

"No, Quianna, it's okay, I'm just trying to finish grading these because Jim and I have a big case this week, so why the late call? Are you okay?" Blair replied, calming his voice from its earlier agitation at the interruption.

"Well, I need a favor, Blair."

"Okay," he responded his voice dripping with trepidation.

"Can you come over and stay tonight?" she asked quietly.

Blair sighed, "Quianna, you know we talked about this. We're just going in too different directions to get serious. I thought you understood," he said gently, mindful of her feelings.

"Oh no, Blair. It's not like that at all. I'm just scared to be alone tonight," she started softly.

"Well, do you want me to take you over to your sister's house?"

"No, um, I can't... um... go there. Maybe you could just stop by and..."

"Quianna, I'm really tired..." he began.

"Blair, Max was here and..." her voice trailed off into silence.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he questioned worriedly.

"No," she answered sobbing.

"I'll be right there, 418 right?"

"Yeah thanks, Blair. I owe you," she sighed hanging up the phone.

Blair started to hang up the phone but decided to call Jim and tell him he'd be really, really late.

"Chief?" Jim answered on the first ring.

"Jim, you aren't sitting right by the phone waiting up for me, are you?" he baited, smiling widely.

"As a matter of fact..." he chuckled. "What's up?"

"Well, Quianna's having trouble with her ex again, and I told her I'd come by," he relayed tiredly.

"Okay, well, I'm heading up to bed and I'll see you in the morning. Oh, and Chief... Don't stay up too late," he grinned obnoxiously.

"Okay, man. See you in the morning," he said placing the receiver back in its stand.

* * *

Blair arrived at Quianna's in record time. He took the elevator upstairs because he was too tired to even consider all those stairs.

Sighing, he knocked at the door and waited for a response from within.

"Blair?" he heard her voice call softly through the door.

"Yeah, it's me," he responded with more enthusiasm than he felt.

She opened the door cautiously inviting him in. "Please, sit down. I'm really sorry to bring you here, I just didn't know who else to call," she sobbed, her eyes downcast and trying in vain to hide the left side of her face.

"Are you okay?"

"Better now that you're here. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag you over so late. Max just scared the hell out of me, and I thought for sure he would come back. I've never seen him that angry," she cried, turning her face away from him.

"It's okay, Quianna. Look my friend's a cop. He could probably help you with a restraining order or something," Blair searched her face and gasped as she tried to shrink back into the shadows. Suddenly, his temper flared and he crossed the room and reached for her face. She cried out and tried to back away, but he held her fast, but gently.

"Oh my God, Quianna," he breathed looking at the bruised and swollen left side of her face. His eyes flashed with anger. "Did he do this to you?"

"Blair, it's okay..."

"NO, Quianna. It's not okay. Have you looked at your face in the mirror?" he interrogated.

"Blair, really, it wasn't so bad this time," she replied meekly.

"This time? Are you even listening to yourself, man? Quianna, go pack an overnight bag. You can stay at the loft tonight and we'll talk to Jim in the morning. It'll all be okay, you'll see," he reassured her, smiling gently.

"Thank you, Blair. You don't know what this means to me," she smiled through soft tears and turned to go pack her bag.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 2_**

Jim awoke with a start, bolting upright in his bed. He instantly reassured himself that his Guide was safe by seeking out his heartbeat in the loft. Finding him in the living room, he continued his search for what had awakened him. He soon discovered that they were not alone in the loft. He could distinctly hear a third racing heartbeat. Adrenaline surged through his body as he grabbed his gun and hurriedly made his way down the stairs.

In the low light, he could see his Guide was safely asleep on the couch. What was he doing on the couch? He shook off the distraction and proceeded toward the third heartbeat in Blair's room. Keeping himself between the intruder and his sleeping Guide, he thrust open the door to Blair's room and raised his weapon.

"Hold it right there," he growled protectively.

Quianna screamed, causing Blair to fly off the couch in a panic and Jim's Sentinel hearing which had been turned up for the prowl to go into overload and drive him to his knees.

Blair took in the situation and raced to Jim's side.

"Are you okay, man?" Lowering his voice so that only the Sentinel could hear him, "Turn the dial way down, okay?" he guided, his hand resting lightly in the small of Jim's back.

"Sandburg!" Jim barked. "Do you mind telling me what the hell a girl's doing in your bed?"

"It's a long story, Jim. She had no where else she could go tonight, man."

Jim pulled Sandburg out of the doorway. "Excuse us," he said politely as he pulled the door closed. Jim firmly guided Blair into the kitchen for a chat. "Out with it, Sandburg," he growled tiredly.

"She called my office in a panic, man," Blair began whispering. "Her ex-boyfriend's a real psycho. He shook her up pretty good, and she asked if I would come stay with her. I felt better about having her here just in case he decided to come back."

The door to Blair's room opened slowly, and Quianna tentatively made her way across the room.

"Blair?" she called out quietly.

"I'm over here, Quianna. Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"I was just startled. I forgot your roommate was a policeman," she answered, eyes downcast.

Jim and Blair crossed the room to her. Jim reached out and lifted her face to meet her eyes. His jaw worked overtime as he saw the purple and blue bruises covering the left side of her face. She averted her gaze as his anger began to swell. Jim gently pushed up the sleeves of Blair's flannel shirt that seemed to swallow her tiny frame. Blair gasped as he saw the finger shaped bruises on her upper arms.

"Quianna?" Blair questioned as he took in the bruised woman in front of him.

"Just drop it, okay, Blair?" she hissed, shoving the sleeves down with an angry glare and stalking back into Blair's room.

"Quianna, wait," he tried.

"She won't press charges, Chief. They rarely do," Jim said quietly his voice shaking with anger. He hated domestic violence. Even the title itself, domestic violence, made it all sound so civilized. He had never understood how somebody could do that to his own loved ones. Shaking with anger, he put his arm around Blair's shoulders and led him to the couch.

"Better get some sleep, Chief. Tomorrow's gonna be a very busy day." He rounded the couch and made his way up the stairs slowly.

* * *

The next morning Blair awakened to find Quianna in the kitchen making breakfast.

He scrubbed his eyes and made his way carefully to the table, glasses in hand.

"You don't have to do that, Quianna," Blair whispered, unsure if Jim was still sleeping.

"I'm up, Chief," Jim informed his roommate as he jogged down the stairs. "I'm gonna head over to Joel's and take the dog out for a run. I'll be back in a couple hours," he finished as he grabbed his cup of coffee to go.

"Okay, see ya, man." Turning toward his houseguest he asked, "Quianna?" awkwardly pausing, "why haven't you pressed charges against Max?"

"It's not important, Blair. Can we please talk about something else?" she spoke icily.

"I think it is important. Will you at least consider a restraining order or maybe Jim could talk to the guy," he suggested helpfully.

"NO! Blair, just let it go," she cried forcefully, running from the room.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 3_**

Blair was worried. Quianna had been holed up in his room for nearly two hours, and he could still hear her crying softly. He tossed his glasses to the table in front of him and heaved a sigh.

Crossing the room swiftly, but quietly, he rapped at the door. "Quianna," he spoke softly keeping his tone neutral, "please let me come in. I'm real sorry about earlier. I didn't mean..." he paused as the door opened slightly.

Pushing it open the rest of the way, he crouched down next to the bed.

"I'm... sorry... Blair," she managed between sobs. "I didn't want... to completely... lose it..." her voice trailed off subtly.

"It's okay. You've had a bit of a shock. Just rest as long as you need to," he reassured her with a compassionate smile. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded, not quite trusting her shaky voice to speak again.

"Then let's get you something to eat," he prodded as he helped her up and to the kitchen. She stumbled once, but he caught her easily and guided her the rest of the way.

"Blair? Would it be okay if I make you guys dinner? I want to repay you for all that you've done for me," she smiled softly.

"You don't have to do that. It's what friends do," he replied casually, unaware that she flinched at his statement.

* * *

Quianna hummed to herself as she laid dinner on the table. She deliberately placed Blair's plate at his usual chair, then turned bringing the two others. "Okay guys, dinner's ready!" she called out excitedly.

Jim and Blair muted the Jags game and headed toward the table for the long-awaited meal.

"This looks great. I'm starving!" Blair praised taking his seat as his stomach growled again.

"You got any manners, Chief? There's a lady present," Jim teased, slapping Blair's arm.

"Sor-ry," he answered obnoxiously taking Jim's teasing in stride.

They ate dinner uneventfully discussing neutral topics. By the end of dinner, Blair was ready for a nap. He got up from the table to take his plate to the sink when he swayed ever so slightly.

"You okay there, Chief?" Jim asked, unable to hide the concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, I just got up too fast and with all the work hours and lack of sleep hours, I'm a little tired," he dismissed Jim's concern with practiced art. "I'm gonna go lay down for awhile. Thanks for dinner, Quianna. It was delicious." He turned and barely made it to his room before collapsing.

Jim double checked on his Guide for himself and, once certain that his heart rate was exactly where it should be and his breathing too was normal, he turned back to his dinner.

"Have you always been a detective?" Quianna engaged in conversation.

"No, I was in the army for awhile," he replied finishing off the last bite of his dinner.

"Cool. If you're through I can get the dishes. Then I should be on my way," she glanced at Blair's bedroom door.

"Don't worry about the dishes. I got it. Why don't you go ahead and get your stuff together and I'll drive you home?" he suggested as he moved to clear the remainder of the dishes.

"You don't have to give me a ride. I can always take a cab."

"No, I want to make sure that your ex isn't waiting for you when you get home, okay?" Jim asked.

"Thanks, I'll go get my stuff together," she hesitated as she approached the door to Blair's room.

"Don't worry about waking Sandburg, Quianna. He sleeps like the dead," Jim assured her.

She opened the door quietly and went into the room to gather her things. She jumped when Jim walked up behind her.

"I'm gonna get the truck and wait for you outside. It's chilly tonight, and I thought you might prefer a warm ride home. Damn heater takes forever to warm up. Just come on out front when you get your stuff and we can get going. You can use Blair's key to lock the door," he informed pointing toward the keys lying askew in the basket.

"Okay, and Jim? Thanks," she smiled warmly at him.

She double checked her bag and leaned over Blair placing a kiss on his cheek. He stirred slightly but did not wake. She smiled warmly.

"Blair," she whispered beneath her breath. "Blair, we should always be together so we can take care of each other," she smiled as she gently caressed the side of his face. "Only one thing stands in our way," she continued to whisper eerily. Leaning over Blair, she lingered, insinuating herself into his subconscious, the smile never fading from her lips. Silently, she kissed his brow affectionately and walked out the door locking it with Blair's key as his roommate had instructed.

* * *

Jim returned home later than he expected thanks to the horrendous traffic. He had dropped off Quianna about 45 minutes ago and after a thorough walk through her apartment was convinced that she would be fine. He was so tired, he couldn't think about anything but getting home to bed. Simon wanted him to come in early tomorrow and if he didn't get to bed soon, he knew that would be difficult.

He finally pulled into a vacant spot at the loft and wearily dragged his body up the stairs to the third floor.

"Ah, home..." he cooed as he walked through the door tossing keys and badge into the basket by the door. He made his way up the stairs and nearly fell into bed headfirst before he remembered to remove his gun and pants.

Flopping tiredly on the bed, he tuned into his Guide's steady soothing heartbeat and was asleep within minutes.

* * *

Jim woke with a start. Searching out with his senses he saw a reflection in the mirror over his dresser. He jumped visibly. "Jesus, Chief, you just took a year off my life," Jim rasped, his voice still raspy with sleep.

He turned over in the bed as Blair brought the glinting blade down toward Jim's chest.

"Whoa," Jim screamed, deflecting the blade as it cut into his left bicep instead of his torso. "What the hell? Sandburg?" Jim grimaced in pain and kicked Blair in the gut as Blair raised the knife to strike again.

This couldn't be happening. Why would Blair try to kill him? This had to be a nightmare. He bounded upright from the bed and disarmed Blair with a sweep kick that knocked Blair flat on his back.

Blair, seriously winded, blinked a few times and fell back to the floor. His eyes cleared, and he looked at Jim questioningly. "Ah, Jim, what am I doing up here? And why am I lying on the floor?" he asked, confusion evident on his face. "And why do I feel like my chest has been caved in? Did somebody break into the loft? Are you okay? Oh, my God, Jim, you're bleeding," he finished after taking a quick supplementary breath.

Blair climbed from the floor and approached Jim to check on his wound. Jim backed away, snatching the gun from its holster and holding it firmly on his friend with the safety most definitely off.

"What's the matter, Jim? Are your senses acting up?" Blair inquired, stopping as he noticed the safety was off.

"You stay right there and don't move," Jim commanded as he picked up the phone and dialed Simon's number.

"Banks," he heard Simon say as he came on the line.

"Simon, it's Jim. I need you at the loft, NOW!" He hung up the phone, never taking his eyes from Blair.

"Jim at least let me help you. Looks like they cut you pretty good, please?" Blair begged his friend.

"No," Jim responded flatly. "Stay still and be quiet. If you move toward me I will shoot you," he declared firmly.

"Okay, okay, but we're definitely checking out your senses when Simon gets here. Like when you're not armed and a little calmer," Blair replied under his breath, knowing his Sentinel heard him.

Twenty minutes later, Simon knocked on the door.

"Use your key, Simon," Jim yelled down the stairs.

Simon walked into the loft, gun drawn. "Where the hell are you, Ellison?" he growled.

"Up here," Jim answered curtly.

Simon moved cautiously up the stairs, his gun at the ready. He was not prepared for the sight he came upon. Jim was leaning against his dresser in obvious pain holding his gun on Sandburg, of all people. "Shit, Jim what the hell's goin' on?" he demanded gruffly.

"I don't know," Blair began quietly before Jim advanced on him with the gun, effectively silencing him.

Simon sighed and taking a deep breath said, "Why don't we move down to the living room and see if we can figure this all out. Ah, hell, Jim, you're bleeding. Now what the hell happened here?"

Jim did not lower his gun until they were all seated in the living room area. Jim gestured for Blair to sit on the loveseat while he and Captain Banks took up residence on the long couch.

Blair tried to reason with Jim. "Jim, your wound is going to get infected if we don't clean it up soon."

"You aren't going to touch me," Jim hissed venomously. "Simon, I know this is going to sound weird, but... Is that really Blair?" he questioned tentatively.

Simon and Blair exchanged shocked expressions.

"Yeah, it is, buddy. Now tell me why you won't let him help you?" Simon asked gently.

"Because he tried to kill me!" Jim blurted out sharply.

Blair almost flew off the couch at the accusation, but seeing the look in Jim's eyes froze him to his seat. "What do you mean I tried to kill you? I couldn't..." Blair defended.

Simon interrupted, "Why don't you start at the beginning, Jim?"

Jim sighed and took the deep breath he would need to get through this. "I was sleeping upstairs in my bed, when I was startled from my sleep. I opened my eyes to see Blair's reflection in the mirror..." Jim closed his eyes briefly to remember, then they flew open coldly. "When I turned, he tried to stab me in the chest. I deflected the blade into my arm and rolled out of bed. When he went after me again, I kicked him in the chest hard and then knocked him to the floor and disarmed him. Then I called you."

Tears welled up in Blair's eyes as he fought to maintain control. "I don't remember any of that. One minute I was sleeping in my room, the next I wake up in Jim's room with a gun to my head," his voice barely above a whisper.

"Simon, the knife's on the floor by my bed," Jim sighed.

Simon climbed the stairs to retrieve the kitchen knife. Jim's blood was still dripping from it.

Blair gasped as he saw the knife with Jim's blood on it. He turned to Simon, "Simon, I want you to arrest me," he begged quietly. "If I hurt Jim once, I may do it again and I couldn't bear it if something happened to him because of me."

Simon sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes, "Calm down, Blair. We'll figure this out, but first I wanna get you guys to the hospital and get you checked out. Jim, you okay with that?"

Jim turned looking at Blair with ice blue, pain-filled eyes. "That's fine," he said dropping his gun to his lap.

* * *

Blair turned to Simon thoughtfully. "I said no, Simon, and I meant it. My job is to protect my partner and I don't think I can do that right now. I swear, Simon, I don't even know what happened," he managed before turning away.

"Jim's been waiting to see you. He's asked several times, and you still turn him away. I can see this is tearing you both up, but you have to face it, Sandburg. Jim cares about you, and your refusal to see him is killing him," Simon reminded gently.

"What if I try to hurt him again?"

"I'll be here the whole time if you want and hopefully the doctors will have some answers for us soon," Simon reassured the dejected young man reclining on the hospital bed before him.

Blair paused weighing his options, "Okay, Simon, but only while you're in the room."

Simon opened the door to find Jim waiting anxiously outside the room. Jim bounded into the room, nervously glancing at his partner.

"Hey, Chief. How they treatin' you?" he asked, trying to keep the mood light.

"Good, thanks," Blair returned, gazing at the floor. "How's your arm?"

"It was just a scratch. It's good as new now. You know they say you can come home in a few hours if you feel up to it," Jim began slowly.

"NO! I still think Simon should book me for assault..."

"Blair, you weren't yourself and it wasn't your fault, so stop blaming yourself," Jim tried.

"I could have killed you, Jim. I couldn't live with myself if I had. Hell, I can barely live with myself now," he spat bitterly.

"Blair, the doctor said there was some kind of substance in your blood that shouldn't have been there. They think it was administered to you within the past few days and caused you to act like that. It wasn't your fault," Jim reassured him yet again.

"I have Rafe and Brown checking up at Rainier to find out everyone you came into contact with in the past few days, but they said it would take awhile. Don't worry, we'll let you know," Simon informed the two haggard men.

They all looked up when Dr. Hanson walked through the doors. "How are you feeling, Mr. Sandburg?"

"Okay, I guess," he replied dejectedly.

"We'll need a few days to finish up on your blood work; there was a foreign substance in your blood that we were unable to identify so we'll need a little more time," Dr. Hanson explained in detail. "You should be able to go home within the hour. Just remember to take it easy because your system has had an incredible shock and I can tell just by looking at you that you're exhausted. Have the nightmares let up since this morning?" the doctor asked innocently.

Blair flinched as he saw the anger flare in Jim's eyes.

"Yeah, they're not that bad. Thanks, doc," he replied softly.

"Well good. I still want to give you something to help you sleep better. Some bad memories are bound to resurface as you sort out what occurred during your blackout," Dr. Hanson finished as he patted Blair's arm with care and handed him the prescription.

"Thanks a lot, doc," Blair and Jim replied simultaneously as the doctor, sensing the obvious tension, made a hasty retreat.

"You've been having nightmares?" Jim asked quietly.

Blair nodded and shrugged it off, "It's no big deal, man. Look I'm gonna get ready to go, 'kay?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll go take care of the paperwork and swing back by here in an hour if that'll be enough time," Jim replied.

"Should be fine," Blair grunted as he pulled his clothes out of the plastic bag and proceeded to get dressed.

Jim shrugged disappointedly and left the room without a second look back.

Simon watched the exchange with a heavy heart, as he observed the two friends unable to communicate with their usual ease. Suddenly, his face flushed with anger, "What the hell's the matter with you, Sandburg?"

"That's what we're to find out, remember?" Blair hissed angrily before his demeanor changed to one of defeat. "Sorry, Simon. It's just a lot to process all at once. Jim is my best friend. How could I have tried to... to..." his voice faded off quietly.

"Kill him," Simon finished.

Blair nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "God, I don't know what's wrong with me, Simon. I feel like I'm out of touch with everything and I want to take back what I did, you know, make it right, but I betrayed Jim and it doesn't make a difference what I do. NOTHING can make up for that," he said angrily as he snatched his flannel shirt from the bed.

Simon laid a reassuring hand on Blair's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You've both been through a lot. Jim knows you weren't responsible for attacking him. There's no reason to be ashamed because you didn't willingly do anything wrong. That's the difference, son. Give it some time and it'll all work out. You'll see."

The shadow of a smile crossed Blair's face. "Thanks, Simon."

* * *

The ride back to the loft was eerily quiet. Simon fiddled with the radio in an effort to cut through the tension.

"Well, here we are," Simon spoke, pulling into a vacant parking spot.

"You don't have to baby sit us, Simon. We'll be fine," Jim assured as he pulled himself up from the car.

"I have to pick up Daryl in about an hour, and I don't want to go home just to go back out again. I'll come in and help you get settled," Simon suggested warmly.

Blair's eyes expressed their gratitude at Simon's reluctance to leave them alone as the three men walked up the stairs to the third floor.

Jim opened the door and set his keys in the basket, noticing for the first time that Blair's keys were not there.

"Blair?" Jim asked confusedly, "do you know where your keys are?"

"Yeah, I left 'em in the basket when I came home yesterday. Why?"

"Well, they're not there now," Jim said slowly suddenly remembering. "Oh yeah, Quianna used 'em to lock the door. She probably left them down in the truck. I'll go down and get 'em later if that's okay?"

"Sure, man, no problem. I wasn't planning on going out anyway. Besides, I'm too dangerous to turn loose on an unsuspecting town," Blair cracked guiltily.

"Just stop it, Chief," Jim scolded angrily. "You are not a dangerous man!"

"Tell that to your left bicep," Blair replied snidely, avoiding Jim's eyes.

"Blair, look at me! Come on, look at me," he commanded raising his voice slightly. "Whatever happened, I know that you were under the influence of something, okay? I never, ever thought you were the one hurting me," Jim cringed as he saw Blair flinch at those words. "I know that you would protect me with all that you are, even if it meant giving up your life," he reassured the younger man, holding his gaze.

Blair looked at Jim, his eyes filled with tears. "How can you forgive me?"

"Because you are my Guide and without you... I have nothing," Jim responded gruffly, his voice breaking slightly with emotion as he settled his hands on his Guide's weary shoulders.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 4_**

Quianna threw the phone handset across the room and watched as it shattered against the wall.

"NOOOOOOOO!" she screamed. "It's not fair! I did everything exactly as it was supposed to be done," she spat venomously.

She reached out and pressed the answering machine button again to listen to the message for the third time.

 _"Yeah, Quianna. It's Blair. Jim said you might have my keys from the other night. Sorry, I fell asleep the other night, but hey, I really need those keys. Jim said we could drop by and pick them up on the way to Rainier around two. Please give me a call and let me know if you'll be home then. Thanks,"_ the message ended.

"Calm down, Quianna," she chastised herself. "It's a minor setback that you can handle if you don't panic."

She sat down heavily on the sofa and began to grade the psychology papers that she needed to finish for Monday.

* * *

Blair sat down heavily at Jim's desk and began going through the files writing reports. He shoved the papers across the desk roughly.

"Problem, Chief?" Jim asked striding up uncertainly.

"Yeah... I just can't concentrate. It's really starting to hack me off," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I'm having the same problem. Let's just grab a bite at Wonder Burger on the way home and call it a night," Jim suggested.

"Sounds good..." Blair mumbled, his voice trailing off.

"Now I know something's wrong. You may occasionally indulge me with a trip to Wonder Burger, but never, ever have the words 'sounds good' come out of your mouth in reference to Wonder Burger. Spill it, Chief!"

"I'm just worried... about you," Blair spoke with eyes downcast.

"Listen, Sandburg, we went through this so knock it off. I'll be fine. You could never knowingly hurt me. Now let's get out of here before my stomach complains even more. I forgot to eat lunch."

"Jim, that's not healthy, man," Blair started only to be interrupted by his Sentinel.

"Look who's talking," Jim sneered back with a huge grin.

They dropped their files into Simon's box and made their way to the truck.

When they bounded up the stairs to the loft carrying their Wonder Burger load, Quianna was waiting at the door for them.

"Quianna," Blair whispered, breathless from the jog up three flights of stairs.

"I wanted to return your keys since I missed you at my place today. I'm sorry about that but a student wanted to meet about her essay due next week and it was kinda last minute," she apologized emphatically.

Jim started as he caught the raise in her heart rate as she lied. _Oh well, if she wants to lie to Sandburg about where she was, that's her prerogative,_ his brain reminded him.

"Yeah, man, thanks for bringing these over. You really didn't have to..."

"I was in the neighborhood," she lied again. "You guys aren't eating **that** for dinner, are you?" she asked, glaring disgustedly at the Wonder Burger bags.

"I like this stuff," Jim defended instantly as he opened the front door and threw his keys into the basket. Blair placed his keys in the basket and tossed his dinner to Jim.

"I'll be back in a sec," he said making his way to his room as Jim laid their dinner out on the table.

 _This is perfect,_ Quianna thought as her face twisted into a feral grin and she raised the gun that would keep Blair by her side forever.

Jim looked up as he caught the familiar click of a gun being cocked. Quianna smiled widely as she squeezed the trigger... once, twice, three times, never taking her eyes off the object of her wrath, James Ellison.

Jim had drawn his gun to return fire when a violent fear washed over him; his Guide was coming to save him. Blair dove between Quianna and Jim as the second bullet left the gun. The sound was deafening, but Jim had to protect his Guide.

Guide and Sentinel raced toward each other, one with gun drawn attempting to remove the threat permanently. Jim winced as he witnessed three return shots from his service revolver tear the tiny woman's chest apart as Blair dropped to the floor with a sickening crack and his sight began to fade to darkness. Jim smelled that which he most dreaded, the blood of his Guide, spilled on the cold floor of the loft, unforgivingly taunting him with his failure... again.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 5_**

Jim started awake mere seconds after the darkness grabbed him. "I will not leave my Guide," he determined tenaciously. He fought his way to his feet. The smell of blood was overwhelming as he made his way to the girl to confirm what he already knew; she was dead.

He turned sharply, making his way to Blair, his gun still ready at his side. "Oh my God, Blair," he cried as he saw the red stain grow alarmingly on his friend's back. Jim grabbed the phone and called 911.

"This is Ellison, Major Crimes, I need an ambulance at 852 Prospect. My partner's down... and send backup" he barked as the phone fell from his fingers in his rush to render aid to his fallen friend.

"Blair?" he asked hopefully, but was only answered with gut wrenching silence.

As he approached his fallen partner, he fell automatically into medic mode as he checked Blair's airway, breathing, and circulation. He grabbed a handful of dishtowels from the drawer and pressed them into the wound attempting to staunch the steady flow of Blair's blood.

"Damnit, come on, Blair. Don't you dare leave me!" he commanded, his unsteady voice betraying him. He gasped as his Guide's heart rate began to steadily decrease. "I'm right here, don't go... please," he begged, suddenly remembering every prayer that he thought he had permanently forgotten. "Please God, I need **him**!"

The door swung open suddenly and Jim raised the gun he didn't realize was still in his hand.

"Whoa, buddy," Mic Dawson croaked as he saw the gun come up into his visual field.

Jim sighed and lowered his weapon to allow the unit to work on Blair. He shifted his position to Blair's head, gently rubbing circles in the dark chestnut curls.

The paramedics worked in a flurry of activity to stabilize Blair before enabling transport. What seemed to be hours later, but in reality was only a few minutes, they announced their intention to take Blair to the hospital.

Jim would not remember the walk down to the ambulance nor the long ride to the hospital as his friend flatlined not once, but twice, en route to the hospital. Jim would only remember his friend's pain and his own failure to protect his Guide yet again.

* * *

Simon approached Jim cautiously with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"Come on, Jim. He's been in surgery for six hours, and you haven't let up for a minute. You need to sit down," Simon ordered his best detective.

Jim scowled at him but took his seat when he saw his Captain's face. He looked up hopelessly as Brown and Rafe crossed the waiting room.

"Any word yet?" Brown asked tentatively, not wanting to push Jim further over the edge. Jim had been uncommunicative when his friends reached the hospital. He wouldn't talk at all, not even to identify the shooter. Rafe had tracked her down via fingerprints, and he and his partner were just returning to give a full report to their Captain.

"What did you guys find out?" Captain Banks inquired with a sidelong glance toward Jim.

Rafe cleared his throat, looking at Jim, and began his report. "Well, sir. Her name was Quianna Richards. She was a Psychology teaching fellow at Rainier University. She had pictures of Blair all over her bedroom. It looked like she'd been taking them for months. From what we could piece together from her diary, she..." he paused looking at Brown for the courage to finish his report.

"Go on, Rafe," the Captain intoned impatiently.

"Well, sir," Brown picked up where Rafe left off. "She was convinced that with..." he paused until he saw his Captain's impatient glare. "...That with Jim out of the way, Blair would be hers forever. We even found a vial of the drug she used to poison Blair into trying to kill Jim," he finished, his eyes cast toward the floor.

"Good work, gentleman," Banks praised as the surgeon made his way across the room.

"Captain, there's more," Rafe started. "According to the witness reports, there were three shots fired in the loft. We found one bullet imbedded in the table leg. We assume a second bullet is in Sandburg, but that leaves one bullet unaccounted for and forensics has torn the place apart," Rafe finished.

"Thank you, gentleman," Simon replied as he turned to greet the surgeon.

"Are you here for Blair Sandburg?" the doctor questioned innocently.

"Yes, Doctor. Jim, the doctor's here. Jim?" Simon shook Jim firmly to rouse him.

Jim turned lifeless steel blue eyes on his Captain, but the shock was still overwhelming.

"Jim, the doctor can talk to us now," Simon repeated sternly.

"Sorry, I..." Jim started suddenly. "How's Blair?" he asked the doctor anxiously.

"My name is Dr. Maxim and I was the attending surgeon. Two bullets struck Mr. Sandburg. The first wound was superficial entering his right arm in the forearm. Damage was minimal and we do expect that he will eventually regain full use of his arm; however, the second bullet entered just medial to his right shoulder blade and exited through his chest breaking his right collarbone in the process. The bullet clipped the lung; therefore, we're keeping Mr. Sandburg heavily sedated and on a respirator for the next few hours. He's in recovery now. As soon as he's been moved, I'll see about letting you in to see him, but that won't be for a few hours. Why don't you go home and I'll have the nurse call you when you can visit him?" the doctor finished quickly.

Jim shook his head no emphatically. "I'm not leaving, sir," he whispered firmly.

Simon turned to face down Jim. "Look, Jim, you've had a great shock and maybe a little rest is just what the doctor ordered. You look like hell. Take a good look at yourself, Ellison. You're covered in blood and are about to drop from shock. Now you're going home and that's an order," Simon commanded loudly.

Jim pushed away from Simon and toward the recovery room before the room started spinning. Simon rushed to help him. "Damnit, Jim, you can barely stand up. Now let's go!"

As Simon squeezed Jim's left shoulder for support, he felt the man flinch under his touch. Simon looked into the face of his friend. "Jim? Don't you dare zone on me, man," Simon warned quietly.

Jim raised his hand to push Simon away, when Megan noticed the blood dripping from Jim's left fingers.

"Captain, I think Jim's been shot, sir. There's fresh blood dripping from his left hand," Megan Connors informed her Captain bluntly.

"Oh my God, Jim. She's right," Simon replied. "Damnit, Connors, don't just stand there. Go and get a doctor," he yelled spurring her into action.

"No... Sandburg... have to... find Blair..." Jim whispered, as Simon reached for his good arm.

"He's burning up. Get that doctor, **NOW**!" Simon barked loudly as Jim crashed to the cold hard floor.

Megan returned from the ER with a doctor on her heels. "We think he's been shot," she explained as she pushed through the door to the waiting room. "He's right over here."

Megan led the doctor to Jim's unconscious form. The captain was bent over his fallen officer as the doctor made his entrance. "What have we got here?" the doctor demanded.

"This is Detective Jim Ellison. We think he was shot in the same altercation as Blair Sandburg," Captain Banks admitted thinking, _Jim, you dumb bastard why didn't you say anything? Why didn't I notice anything?_

Stunned, the doctor asked, "Did you say Sandburg?" He continued when Simon confirmed what he'd heard. "That was nearly seven hours ago!" The doctor turned to yell at the nurse's station. "Get me a gurney and put a call into surgery. Tell them we've got another gunshot victim coming up shortly."

The gurney arrived shortly and the fate of another of Simon Banks' men was again hanging in the balance.

Brown looked at the Captain, shaking his head. "The third bullet must have went through Sandburg and hit Jim. The trajectories would match up, sir."

"Damnit, why the hell didn't he say anything?" Banks cursed loudly.

H and Rafe shook their heads. "Sir, you know Ellison doesn't think of himself when Sandburg's down. I wonder if he even knew he'd been shot," Rafe tried to comfort his Captain.

"Yeah, I know and don't think it doesn't piss me off," he growled at his men.

"Captain, you know Sandy and Jim'll be okay, so no worries," Megan said with a small smile.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 6_**

" **Ellison, I oughta kick your ass into the middle of next week!** " Simon yelled at the top of his lungs, the cigar rolling unlit in his fingers.

Joel moved forward putting his hand on Simon's shoulder to try to calm him down a bit. Clearing his throat, he said, "Come on Simon, give 'im a break. His partner was injured right in front of him and he just wasn't thinkin' straight." Jim smiled at the sign of support from the big-hearted detective. "Besides," Joel continued, "he'll be back at work in a few weeks and you can kick his ass then," he finished with a cantankerous smile.

"Come on, Captain," Jim sighed, his tortured expression straight from the Sandburg Zone.

"Don't give me that face, Jim. Besides Sandburg does it much better. Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you two in the same room? He'll be down later on this morning, and you damn well better look out for the kid, Jim!"

Jim's eyes searched the tiles on the floor. "How's he lookin', sir?"

"Pretty banged up but otherwise pretty good. They wouldn't be moving him from ICU if they didn't think he was ready," Simon responded gently.

"Yeah, I guess. It just seems so soon. It's only been a couple days since the shooting," Jim reminded himself as much as the others.

The door opened to admit the day nurse. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but it's time for Mr. Ellison's medication," she said placing three pills into Jim's hand.

"I don't wanna take anything 'til I see Sandburg. Maybe you can bring it back later," he suggested.

"This isn't room service, Mr. Ellison. Now you will take this medication, or I will get orders for antibiotic injections and turn your backside into a pin cushion," she reminded him firmly as the guys from the department did their level best to stifle cries of laughter. "Don't be too smug gentleman, there's plenty to go around. Are y'all current on your tetanus injections?"

The room filled with the mumbling of grown men. "Gotta go, Jim," "My beeper just went off" and "You get well, buddy" reverberated through the sterile room. They all fled from the room snickering all the way down the hall.

* * *

Jim awoke with a start. He calmed almost instantly when he heard the all too familiar sound of his Guide's heartbeat. It nearly lulled him back to peaceful sleep, when he realized that it was coming from the same room and was not slow and steady, but racing as though Blair were running a marathon.

Jim sighed deeply, then threw the blankets to the bottom of the bed and swung his legs over the side carefully. Taking a deep breath and using his right hand to support his left shoulder, he sat up and waited to get busted by Nurse Ratchet. His hearing was clearing up from the bout of vertigo he experienced upon sitting, and he decided to stand up slowly. Staggering slightly, he made it to the chair on the other side of Blair's bed.

Jim searched the young man for signs of distress as he gingerly lowered himself into the chair being mindful of his shoulder.

Blair's pale features, sweat dotted upper lip, and furrowed brow indicated that he was in pain or possibly having a nightmare. "Chief? You okay?" he asked nervously. This was the first time he'd seen Blair since the shooting. _God that kid is pale,_ he thought quietly.

Blair's eyes flew open as he tried to sit upright and yelled, " **Jim!** " He screamed the warning at the top of his lungs.

"It's okay, Chief. I'm right here. I'm okay," he comforted, holding Blair's hand in his own with renewed determination. "You're gonna be fine, Chief. Just relax and go back to sleep. I'm right here," he spoke softly in low tones.

Jim was startled when he heard Simon's voice from the door. "It always amazes me that you can calm him down like that. The level of trust you both share is staggering."

Jim nodded but was silent as he watched Blair sleep restfully.

"Simon, I almost lost him again," he whispered after a long, drawn out pause.

Simon rested his hand supportively on Jim Ellison's good shoulder. "But you didn't, Jim. You can't dwell on what might have been. It'll eat you up inside. You're fighting an infection right now because you waited seven hours before getting your wound looked at," he finished gently.

"I can't explain it, Captain. It was like it wasn't even there. I can't believe I didn't zone on it, because I easily could have and without Blair to bring me back, I'd be lost forever."

"Look Jim, I don't know about the Sentinel/Guide thing, but friends are supposed to be there when you need 'em and you guys get the job done, so give it a rest, Ellison," he snapped grumpily.

"It's about friendship," Jim whispered, looking at his sleeping Guide.

"What was that?" Simon asked quietly.

"After we got back from Peru, when Blair considered taking the job with Stoddard, Blair told me he stayed because it was about friendship, nothing else, just friendship," Jim recounted, his voice quivering.

"I meant it," Blair whispered from the bed.

* * *

 ** _Two weeks later..._**

Jim opened the front door to find Blair humming in the kitchen as he prepared dinner. As soon as he saw Jim was home, he smiled and finished serving the portions onto the plates.

"Wow, that's some spread, Chief," Jim whistled as he took in the wineglasses and bottle of wine chilling. "So what's the occasion?"

"Ah, nothing really. I just thought with all the catch up we've been playing over the past couple weeks, that it might be kinda nice to have a relaxing dinner," Blair smiled as he finished setting the dishes on the table. "Come on, big guy, time to eat."

They took their places and began to savor the vegetable lasagna that Blair had put together.

"Wow, Chief. This tastes great!"

"Look I know we haven't talked much about what happened a few weeks ago, but I think maybe we ought to," Blair began waiting for Jim's reply. "I'm sorry about Quianna. I mean I know that I didn't have a relationship with her, but it just seems that I should have seen that coming. She obviously needed some help but I didn't see it," he finished, playing with the food on his plate.

"Listen, Chief, you couldn't have known she would do that. Hell, I didn't know either and I'm a cop, I should have noticed the signs. There just weren't any. Rafe found out that she paid a guy to beat her up so she could snow you over. She also had a vial of a submissive mind control drug that she used on you to get you to attack me."

"What kind of person does that?" Blair asked quietly, turning away.

"She was obviously very disturbed, Chief, but she won't ever bother us again," Jim stated.

"She's dead?" Blair asked quietly. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer to that question.

"Yeah, Chief, I'm sorry, but I had no choice. She almost killed you and I couldn't let that happen. I wish it could have gone down differently, Blair, but I didn't have a choice," Jim apologized, his steel eyes laced with sadness.

"Jim, I don't blame you for what happened. I just can't believe it, that's all, man," Blair spoke with warmth that spread to his eyes.

Jim picked up their dishes, washed them and put them away. Then he headed to the sofa to watch a little television. He waved Blair over to him and the two sat in silence watching the television intently.

It didn't matter what was on because they each knew that their minds were miles away, thankful for the chance to just be here together, knowing how close they came to losing this moment forever.

 ** _The End_**


End file.
